Chapter 1

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The chilled, salty sea breeze fluttered through Dipper Pines' chestnut hair, breathing new life into him. Adrenaline, if nothing else. His cheeks and ears burned against the winter afternoon, but he couldn't care less. He was on his way to his new temporary apartment, where he would be staying as he looked for work.
He came from a small town far inland of the port town he currently resided in, where he lived with his two great uncles and twin sister for six, coming on seven years, since they were twelve. Their parents had died the year before, so they went to live with their only living and non-missing relative (at the time): their Great Uncle Stan. That same summer, their other great uncle, Ford, returned from a voyage. Everyone in the family had thought he died at sea thirty years earlier in a storm, but through the great effort of Stan, he was found once again and returned. He brought with him three amazing books of the strange things and creatures he saw in his travels. Dipper had always been interested in literature and scientific research, but his uncle's books only heightened that love. Soon enough, he decided he wanted to travel and see these strange things for himself, and perhaps study whatever else he found along his way. He wanted to write a book and catalog what he researched on his travels, heading to the sea as a start. He was reluctant to leave his family, but they knew there was no stopping his quest for knowledge. With great reluctance, he left, and they let him go. He promised to write and tell them when and where he would be stopping on land, if close by, so that they could meet up, bearing in mind the fact that it wouldn't happen for at least a few months.
He was jolted back to reality as he was way too close to being run over by horses and a carriage that sped by, barely acknowledging his existence. He fell backward on the sidewalk, nearly sending his trunk of possessions (mainly paper and fountain pens), tumbling down the hill. Well, I could've died just now, he thought simply to himself. Still recovering from a near heart attack, he gathered his thoughts and possessions and continued along the street, soon arriving at his destination.
He walked inside the building and climbed to the third floor, fumbling through his pockets for the key to his room. He froze. Nothing. He out-turned his pockets. Odd trinkets and coins scattered the floor, but no key. "Uuugh, it must've fallen out when I fell or something," he groaned, rubbing the bridge if his nose. The landlord was scheduled to meet with him tomorrow. Nothing I can do about this until then, he thought, but at least I can get a head start on looking for a job! The only inconvenience it caused, other than needing a place to sleep for the night, was that he had to lug around his trunk all day. Still, it could be worse, he supposed. He strolled back down to the street, turned sea-ward, and began walking.
Of all the ships he went aboard, not one of them could use an extra pair of hands. That's really all he would be, anyway; he wasn't exactly brawny. He dragged his feet as he walked off his most recent failed attempt. It was past sundown already, and Dipper had to turn up the collar of his trench coat against the bitter wind. "Ok, one last try, then it's off to a tavern," he told himself, "Even if this one turns out like the last one, and the dozens before," he added, heart sinking in defeat, "more ships will come into port. I just gotta time it right I guess." He dragged his old trunk along, which had seemed to gain a few lead bricks as the day wore on. He walked up the steep, narrow ramp to the ship towering above him. Outside, it was dark and damp, only a few lights seeping through the windows. But lively sounds of celebration leaked into the night air from the inside, gaining in volume as he approached. It was enticing to the curious Pines. From the dim light of the street lights, he could see the insignia of a whale on the side of the ship. Probably some kind of whaling ship, Dipper decided.
He cautiously approached the hatch leading below deck, mentally preparing himself for another let-down. Propping up his baggage, he awkwardly sat in a squatting position and knocked. The sound of the party didn't waver. He almost knocked again, but without warning, the door flung open, hitting Dipper in the chin. He flung himself backward, landing on his back. He quickly gathered himself and looked at the person that was greeting him. However, the man looked anything but friendly. They both simply stared. The man had a certain... Shock? to him as he looked the young brunette, surveying him from head to toe. It was a look almost as if he couldn't believe someone dared to set foot on their property. He yelled something to the people below, looking back at Dipper immediately after.
"What d'you want?" he asked bluntly. "Uh, I'm looking for a job, is your captain around?" asked Dipper, voice slightly cracking. He was very unsure of himself in that moment, and a little suspicious of the 'whaling' ship. Suddenly, a canvas bag came over his head, and another set of arms swiftly tying him in thick rope around his own, bonding them to his torso. He didn't even have a second to scream.
No matter how much he squirmed, he could neither loosen the grip of the people holding him captive nor loosen the knots. He was dragged, rather uncarefully, below deck. Seriously, he was being smashed against every wall they came across! Without warning, he was tossed across a room against the hard wood floor. A metal door slammed and keys jangled. He was being locked in some kind of jail, though he couldn't be entirely sure, since he still had the bag over his head. It smelled of rotten oranges and stung Dipper's eyes. He did everything in his power to thrash it off of his head, but no use; it was tied on, and he would need a pair of hands to undo it. At the very least, the brigands had left, one man saying in a gruff voice upon leaving, "We'll be back for ya after the captain decides what to do with yer remains." That didn't exactly comfort him, but at least he had time to be alone. If nothing else, he could use it to rethink his life choices up to now. He wiggled around the room like a pathetic, suffocating fish until he found a wall. He snuggled up to it: the only comfort he had as he awaited the end that was sure to come.

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